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Have you heard the phrase, “don’t get your hopes up”?   Have you said it to yourself or others?  I have.  My question is, does saying it really help?  Does holding your hope at bay protect you from disappointment?  Does your heart ache any less by not getting your hopes up?  Not once has it worked for me.  I still get disappointed.  My heart still aches.  The tears still come.  It doesn’t work.  And while I try to hold my hope at bay, I find it difficult to dream and experience joy in the present.   It’s crazy.  So I will get my hopes up and continue to dream big…….

I need help… Those three little words can be so difficult to say.  Almost as hard as saying I’m sorry. (that’s for another time)  I said those words to my oldest daughter this past weekend.  I was stuck and needed help.

Over the last month or so, I had let my office area become virtually unusable.  There were many reasons: the holidays with all its busyness, my ‘I’ll get to that tomorrow’ attitude, the fact that five kids’ worth of paper multiplies during the night…..But the real reason was that I had not really made the space my own. 

My husband and I share a very manly office space at home.  It has dark panelled walls with dark wood floors and dark granite for a work top.  The previous owner designed it as his man cave disguised as an office.  As a result, it has not felt like a warm and inviting space for me to be, so it became a dumping ground for every ones’ stuff.  The space was becoming a problem, though, because that’s where I write and research.  So after taking time off from writing during the holidays, I was having a hard time getting going again because I didn’t want to be in the office.  I was stuck.  I needed help.  Honestly, though, I didn’t really want to ask for help.  I knew what needed to be done- cleaning, organizing, a little decorating- and I knew those were things that I could do myself.  I’d done them before and even helped a couple of friends before with similar tasks.  Yet, I was having a hard time doing them now.  I was getting more and more frustrated.  That’s when I decided to do it….I asked for help.

My oldest daughter is a natural organizer.  She loves doing it for herself and for others and she’s very good, so I asked her.  To be honest, I felt a twinge of shame.  I’m the mom; I’m the one who’s supposed to be the helper, not the helped.  I also knew that by asking, she was going to see all my stuff.  Would she cringe?  Would she judge?  Would she be disappointed that I had let it get to this point?  I wasn’t sure, but I knew without her help, I would remain stuck and that was unacceptable.  So I asked.  She was thrilled!   When we got to the office, I was overwhelmed at the sight.  Not her.  She dove right in and got me sorting my stuff.  She helped me evaluate things when I was unsure whether to toss or keep them.  She helped me let go of things that I didn’t really need.  She reminded me of our goal, to make the space usable and inspiring.  As I sorted, she organized, labeled, and decorated.  The end result is a clean, usable, and inspiring place for me to come and do my thing.

Now when I walk into the office, I feel energized and excited to work.  I am so grateful that I took the risk and asked for help.  Too often in the past, I wouldn’t have asked.  I would have let shame, fear, or even martyrdom stop me.  But I’m coming to understand the importance of getting help in various aspects of my life.   It seems risky. Others may get a glimpse of my mess.  Some may judge.  Some may misunderstand.  That’s okay.  I’m asking anyway…

We have a dog named Princess.  She is a 74 pound doberman/hound mix.  A local vet found her at a park, nursed her back to health and put her up for adoption.  We’ve had her now for almost ten years.  She is physically strong, loyal, and very strong-willed and stubborn.  Upon meeting her for the first time, her experienced dog trainer said, “Oh my, she is strong-willed.  This will be challenging.” 

Princess’ stubbornness was in full force this past week when she had four teeth pulled. (It’s hard getting old even when you’re a dog!)  She was still heavily medicated when we picked her up from the vet so we carried her into the house and took her to her pillow expecting her to lie down.  She refused.  She just stood there.  After a few seconds, her back legs gave way and she fell onto the floor.  We thought that she would just stay down, realizing that standing was not a good plan.  But, no, not her.  She gathered herself together and stood again.  A few seconds later, she fell.   She gathered herself and, yes, stood again.  She repeated this cycle a couple of more times.  We finally just put her on her pillow, made her sit, and then made her lie down.  To keep her down, the kids took turns sitting next to her with a hand on her back reminding her to stay put.

As I watched our dog repeat this cycle of standing, falling, and standing again, I couldn’t help but laugh at her stubborn determination.  She was bound and determined to stand even though lying down was best for her.  It made me think of myself.  I can be very stubborn and strong-willed; sometimes to my own detriment, just like Princess.  I dig in my heels and refuse to do or refrain from doing what is best for me.  I must look as silly as Princess; repeating behavior that doesn’t work yet hoping that the results will change.  I’m sure there are times when God shakes his head and chuckles as he waits for me to put aside my stubborn attitude.  My hope is the next time my stubbornness rears it’s head, I’ll think of Princess and just lie down….

My son who has autism had his first basketball practice for the season.  He has always loved basketball.  He enjoys playing both the live and video versions.  He has a collection of cards, has memorized the teams, draws their logos, and knows their players.  When he was younger, he talked of being drafted into the NBA and playing with Scotty Pippen.  If it only had to do with heart and passion, he would make it!  For the last several years, he has played for local leagues that have tryouts, but where each boy gets picked and gets equal playing time.  He loves it!  Needless to say, he looks forward to basketball season each year.  I however, become anxious and a little emotional at the first practice and the first game.

Each year he has had wonderful coaches and teammates.  His coaches are men who volunteer their time to run practices and coach one game each week.  Each one of them has treated him with kindness and compassion, but have also pushed him to be better.  His various teammates have also been great.  They cheer him on, encourage him, and make him feel like a member of the team.  So with all of these wonderful experiences, why do I become anxious?  Fear.  Will this be the year that he will encounter someone who is not kind or understanding?  Will the boys accept him?  Will they become frustrated if he doesn’t keep up or do well?  Will the coach be encouraging and patient?  Will the other parents be nice to him?  Will he be offered grace and mercy when he falls short or fails?

The truth is, I ask those same questions myself when I encounter new situations and new challenges.  Will I be accepted for me?  Will I be offered grace and mercy?  As I have watched my son over the years, I am encouraged to do what he does at the start of the basketball season.  He offers his heart.  From the beginning, he offers kindness, encouragement, and grace.  In return, they offer him the same.  It’s wonderful to watch.   And it’s a good reminder to me as I encounter new situations and people;  to offer kindness, grace and mercy instead of my fear.  I’m not always successful, but watching my son and his teammates challenge me to continue trying.

Following your dream is not easy.  I was recently talking with a friend who is pursuing her dream of full time ministry.  It requires her to go back to school.  She thought the process would be easier.  She thought she would enjoy her classes and would actually want to do her assignments.  She thought that if she followed the plan God set for her life, the journey would be easy.  Instead, the path is sometimes boring and a chore.  I can relate.

I, too, have believed that if I pursued my dream, that thing that God created me to do, it would be easy.  I thought I would enjoy all aspect of writing, that the words would flow easily and beautifully, and that I would wake up each day excited about my pursuit.  (I know some of you are laughing as you read this….It sounded much more realistic when it was only in my head!)  Instead, there are days when I don’t want to research or write, the words don’t flow, and are they anything but beautiful.  On those days, doubt can set in.  Doubt that this is really what God has called me to do. Doubt that I have the ability to do it.  Doubt that what I do has any meaning.   After all, if this was what I was made to do, it should be easy.  But that is a lie.  No one said, especially God, that life or pursuing a dream would be easy.  It takes work, effort, and perseverance.

So the choice before me and anyone else pursuing a dream is whether to believe the lie and quit, or recognize it for what it is and continue pressing on towards the goal.  I choose to press on….

I went to a Veteran’s Day program at my kids’ school.  Truth be told, I only went because my daughter was singing in the choir.  What I experienced was a very moving tribute to our troops, past and present.

It started with a wonderful prayer led by the student body president, followed by the presenting of the flag and the Pledge of Allegiance.  We then sang the Star Spangled Banner along with the choir and band.  I was already getting misty eyed.  Then the flag for each branch of the military was presented.  Veterans and active members of each branch were invited to stand by their respective flags.  We were then able to applaud them for their service.  It was moving to see each one walk to the front.  They each approached with a mixture of pride for their branch and humility for their service.  It was breathtaking to watch.  It brought me to tears. 

Then the speaker began.  She was a retired marine in her mid fifties.  She spoke of the pride that retired and active military members have for their service.  She said many of them wear hats to show when and where they served.  She also spoke of the struggles they encounter when coming home; injuries,  post traumatic stress disorder, joblessness and the like.  She encouraged us to look for veterans and take 2 seconds to say 5 words:  Thank you for your service.  She said those words could bring healing and encouragement.  By the time she was done speaking, we were all ready to start.

The program ended with the Junior ROTC offering a tribute to all our veterans.  At its end, I was doing everything I could not to go into my ugly, snot bubble cry.  It was beautiful and touching.  (And I am recommending Kleenex for next years program!)  I was overcome with gratitude for everyone who has served our country.  It humbles me to know that men and women are willing to sacrifice so much so that I can have the wonderful freedoms that I do living in this country.  So to all of you who have served, are serving, or are part of a military family:  Thank you for you service!

I like to be comfortable.  I like wearing comfortable clothes and comfortable shoes.  I like sitting in comfortable chairs wrapped in comfortable blankets.  I like comfortable situations and comfortable conversations.  I find being uncomfortable…uncomfortable.  The problem is that I’m not called to live a comfortable life.  I’m called to live a life of purpose and meaning which means embracing the uncomfortable.  And though I fully believe and feel passionate about living bravely and outside my comfort zone, I often revert to my comfortable ways.  It’s an easy place to be; it feels safe and manageable.  The problem about living there is that I am left unsatisfied and unfulfilled.  Yet the pull to stay comfortable is very strong, both internally and externally.

Internally, I think, “Life is good.  Why rock the boat?”  Life seems manageable, under control.  (Or as under control as it can be in our household!)  There’s enough activity and unexpected situations to give the illusion of living outside my comfort zone.  But it’s not true.  And so after a while, I’m left feeling restless.

Externally, I am told that we all have and like our comfort zones. I take this as permission to stay in my zone.  After all, we all have one; it’s normal.  Besides, I’m told, I should do things that feel good or come naturally to me.  I don’t need to do things that would cause discomfort.  While I agree that it’s good to use my natural gifts and talents, I think I use them as an excuse to justify staying in my comfort zone.  I talk about facing my fears and getting out of my zone, but too often I decide to stick with my zone and just dream of what it would be like to venture out.  But after a while, I’m left feeling restless and unfulfilled.

So how do I embrace the uncomfortable and make it a daily habit?  A lifestyle?  I so wish there was an easy answer!  But I’m learning that it takes time and practice…lots of practice.  The good thing is that God gives me a lot of opportunities.  Some days are great.  I embrace the uncomfortable and live bravely.  Some days I stay in my zone refusing to be moved.  (I generally don’t like those days.)  I find that stepping out can be uncomfortable and I second guess myself, thinking I look foolish. I’m discovering, though, that the bad feelings I’m left with when I stay put are not worth the momentary comfort.  So here I go again…..

It’s hard being an outsider.  Imagine yourself as a 14 year old deaf boy being bussed to a neighboring high school.  Not because there isn’t a school in your community, but because your own school can’t accommodate your needs.  You watch as other kids talk and laugh together knowing you can’t participate because you can’t hear them and they can’t sign for you.  You spend much of your time in a small classroom with adults; isolated and separated from other students. That’s the life of a boy who recently arrived at my kids’ high school.   He is an outsider.  But then came Officer M…. 

Officer M. is a security officer at the school.  She loves her job because she loves the kids.  She talks with them, jokes with them, hugs them, and makes sure they’re making good choices.  She also wears a hearing aid in each ear.  She too, knows what it’s like to be an outsider.  And now, she has become the bridge to belonging for this boy.  She walks with him around the school introducing him to students and staff.  She spends time with him, talks with him (she spent time brushing up on her signing), encourages him and laughs with him.  He’s beginning to change.  He used to walk with his head down.  Now, he holds his head up so he can see the students who are waving and giving him high fives.  He smiles.  He’s beginning to belong.  It’s a beautiful thing to see.  And all of this, because someone has taken the time to bridge the gap between outsider and member.

I know what it’s like to be an outsider.  It’s hard.  It’s lonely.  It’s uncomfortable.  I’ve been blessed to have wonderful people be that bridge for me.  I am forever grateful for them.  And Officer M. reminds me to be the bridge for someone else…

Letting it go is hard to do.  My son couldn’t find his jacket the other morning.  For most of my kids misplacing an object is frustrating, but not the end of the world.  For this son, it has the potential to ruin a perfectly good day.  He does what many autistic people do, he perseverates on an idea or situation and has trouble letting it go and moving on.  (Notice how I used a big word there?  I helped with science and math homework last night…Using a big word makes me feel better.)  Basically, he becomes obsessive about an idea or situation.  It can become all consuming.  We have worked for years to develop strategies and techniques to help him ‘let it go’.   So as I saw the level of his anxiety elevate, I reminded him to do just that.  He took time to sit alone and take deep breaths.  We talked about possible solutions; looking for the jacket, asking his teachers if he left it in class, or getting a new one.  In the end, we talked about not letting a lost jacket ruin his day.  He finally said he was ready to let it go.  I hoped he was, but I knew better.  He has let go of things before only to bring them up again and again.  Sure enough, on the way to school, he started getting anxious about his jacket again. 

That’s the funny thing about letting go; just when you think you have, it can come back.  You let go of the past, only to have it rear its ugly head.  You let go of a hurt, but something is said that reminds you of its pain.  You let go of certain habits, only to be ensnared again.  When I tell my son to let it go, it seems so easy, so final.  I wish it were.  Instead, I find that I have to remind myself to let it go…again.  I can start to get frustrated with myself.  Why can’t I just let it go and be done with it?  Because I’m human and far from perfect.  So I let it go again, hoping it’s for good this time….. 

My mom is an avid quilter.  And has she been busy!  When I visited this Summer, I was able to see many of her quilting projects.  Some of them are finished, some have been started, and some are in the planning stages. She made quilts in various fruit shapes for all of the tables at her church’s women’s retreat. (The theme was fruit of the Spirit.  They were a big hit!)  She made a beautiful 3-D quilted flower pillow for my sister.  And she even made a full sized quilt for me. (I take it with me to my weekly bible study because the room is so cold.  The other women are jealous.) My mom has always enjoyed sewing, but I’ve never seen her make so many things.  Part of it is because she finally retired, so she has the time.  But the driving force is really her eyes.  You see, my grandmother became blind due to macular degeneration.  It was difficult to watch an avid reader lose her eyesight.  And the type of macular degeneration she had is hereditary.  My mom knows that she, too, could lose her eyesight to this disease.  Her comment to me was that she wanted to quilt and sew as much as she could before her eyes give out.  She knows that her time may be limited to do something she loves and she does not want to miss out.

It made me think… I often put off doing things that I enjoy.  I know in my head that my time on earth is limited and I should live life to the fullest, but too often that knowledge is overridden by my to do list.  I tell myself that I can do what I love tomorrow, but today I must accomplish certain tasks.  Now there are some tasks that are time sensitive and can’t wait, I understand that.  The problem comes when I begin to see everything on my list in that way.  The next thing I know, days or weeks have passed since doing what I truly love.  As time goes on, it becomes easier to keep pushing it off until I can’t even remember what it was that I wanted to do in the first place.  But what if I lived fully aware of my limited time?  How would I manage my time?  What things would suddenly seem less urgent?  What things would become more urgent?

The possibility of going blind has given my mom clarity.  She spends time doing what she loves.  She cherishes and nurtures it by practicing, taking classes, and spending time with others who share her passion.  In the process she not only makes beautiful things for us to enjoy, but she reminds me to choose wisely.  My time is limited….